Ride Along
by iLoVeRynMar
Summary: "We drive along in silence for a while longer, and I realize this night has not gone at all like I had expected. I was ready to be pissed off the entire time and make it perfectly clear how I feel about this punishment. But Officer Mellark is nothing at all like I expected, and this night has been anything but ordinary." Modern Day AU
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Well I'm back haha. This story would not have come to fruition without the amazing and talented Court81981 who is a wonderful person, friend, and beta. She really encouraged me to find a story worth writing for Everlark and I can't thank her enough. This entire story is nearly completed so updates will be fairly regular. Let me know what you think and enjoy! :) And I'm on Tumblr at ~ thegirlonpeetamellark**

***This story is inspired by the book _"Going Too Far" by Jennifer Echols_. She is a fantastic author and I definitely suggest checking her work out! :)***

"Umm...can you put on your seat belt?"

I glance over at Officer Peeta Mellark and scowl at him in annoyance.

It's hard to keep a straight face though when I see the smug little smirk flit across his lips as I reach for my seat belt. He has such a baby face—a completely innocent, good-natured, dog-licking-your-face kind of appearance–that it's almost impossible to truly be upset with him. Or really take him all that serious for that matter.

I can't imagine him getting pissed off, or telling someone to freeze and put their hands up. He's like the complete opposite of what you'd expect a cop to look like. He's not hard and cold and rough around the edges. He's warm and open and smiles freely. That fair skin and those blond curls and those impossibly blue eyes all add to his less-than-threatening look.

Of course, I would never say any of this to him because I'm pissed. So incredibly infuriated that I have to spend a whole week of my summer being dragged around in a cop car like some kind of notorious criminal.

It's not like I murdered anyone. I was trespassing.

There's a hole in the fence that surrounds the abandoned projects on the bad side of town. I usually flatten my belly and slide under it, despite the warning signs, because I like the solitude of the homes. I wasn't there letting some guy between my legs, or getting stoned like most kids who go there.

I just like being alone. I like being away from my home that feels too big and too empty these days. A dead sister. A catatonic mother. An absentee father. Why would I want to spend any more time there than I had to?

I was able to avoid any real kind of punishment or mark on my permanent record since I'm still a minor—although I turn eighteen next week. I was able to get off with nothing more than a week of riding around with Officer Mellark to "learn the error of my ways," or some shit like that, thanks to my father pulling some strings. He's the mayor's personal lawyer, and the mayor knows Chief Abernathy of the Panem Police Department, and that's how I ended up here.

"So I'm going to drive by the usual hot spots for drug deals and loitering, just to keep an eye on things. That's what the night shift usually is. A lot of driving around," Officer Mellark explains with a smile.

I cross my arms in front of my chest and stare out the window.

I hear him chuckle in response, and it just pisses me off more.

"We're stuck together for a whole week Katniss," Officer Mellark reminds me, "so you can't ignore me the whole time."

"Who says I can't?"

He grins in response, clearly pleased with himself for getting a response from me.

"I say so. You need me to sign off that you were cooperative and learned the error of your ways...or some shit."

I almost smile. Almost.

"Don't you think you're a little young to be mentoring me?" I protest. "You're probably fresh out of the Academy. What is this, your first week on the job Officer Mellark?"

"Six months," he says, turning into a liquor store parking lot. "I just turned 21. And call me Peeta."

Holy shit. He is young. Like barely older than me.

"Stay in the car," he tells me, opening his door and getting out before I can say another word.

He approaches the liquor store, where a haggard looking man is leaning against the window, muttering to himself and walking around in circles. I can't make out their conversation from here, but based on the way he's standing, thumbs hooked into the belt of his pants, studying the man carefully, I can tell this is not the first time they've crossed paths.

I watch Peeta—Office Mellark—carefully, appreciating the way he fills out his uniform. I think I might take back what I said about him not being a menacing presence, because the way he's talking to this crazy guy is intimidating. He looks serious and intense; he looks like he could snap the guy's neck with minimal effort. His biceps bulging under the short sleeves of his uniform are hard to tear my eyes away from.

Suddenly the crazy guy lunges at Peeta, and my heart stops, I think I cry out, but I'm not sure. I reach for the door handle, but before I can even really consider getting out of the car, Peeta has the guy pressed up against the store window and is putting him in cuffs. My heart is beating wildly as Peeta walks the guy back to the car and pushes him into the backseat.

I try and keep my eyes forward, reminding myself that there is a metal cage separating me from the crazy guy. It's not helpful though when I can sense the guy lean forward in his seat, his face pressed up against the bars. His hot breath is on my neck, and I try not to flinch or move away and show any signs of weakness.

Peeta slides into the driver's seat. "Sorry about that," he says as he starts the car. "We'll go drop him off at the station right now."

"What's the hurry?" Crazy Guy asks with a snarl. "I want to spend more time with this hot piece of ass."

"Sit the fuck back and shut up, Cray," Peeta snaps at him as we pull out of the parking lot.

"Oh! What's a matter, Mellark?" Cray laughs. "You've already been there?"

I can see Peeta's hands tighten on the steering wheel as his jaw tenses.

"I bet you have. She looks like she'd have a hot, tight cunt."

The car comes to a screeching halt as Peeta slams on the breaks. Luckily my seat belt is still on, so I only get jolted forward, but that doesn't stop Peeta from flinging an arm out to try and stop me. His arm only brushes against my collarbone, but I still feel my face flame at his touch. Cray, however, slams face first into cage separating the front and back seats and groans in pain.

"I told you to shut the fuck up," Peeta growls as he moves the car forward again.

The rest of the way back to the station is dead silent as Cray moans in agony in the back seat, but luckily it's not too long of a ride.

When we get to the station, Peeta drags Cray out of the car and tells me he'll come find me in the lobby when he's done. I make myself a cup of coffee and try to shake off the repulsive feeling that just being around Cray gave me. I try to push his words out of my head, try to forget the way his hot breath made me shiver in fear.

Peeta reappears fifteen minutes later and explains he got a friend who owes him a favor to fill out all the boring paperwork, so we can head back out. He makes his own cup of coffee, and then we're back on the road.

"So I'm guessing that's not your first run-in with Crazy Guy?" I ask after a few moments of silence.

"Yeah no," Peeta shakes his head, "that guy is the worst. The first time I arrested him..." he trails off, and I turn to look at him in confusion.

There's a pained look in his eyes, and it makes my heart stutter and my stomach twist. He seems so upset that I almost reach out an arm to comfort him, but then he continues. "I was just in the right place in the right time. It was the oldest story in the book: a dark alley at night. I heard the girl screaming, and I got there in the nick of time. He hadn't done anything yet, but there was enough damage inflicted."

It's suddenly very hard to breathe. I feel sick. Just thinking that I was near that animal makes me feel dirty.

"It was my first week on the job," Peeta adds. "Rough way to start your career."

I swallow hard and turn to look out the window. I don't know what to say to that, so I don't say anything at all.

We drive along in silence for a while longer, and I realize this night has not gone at all like I had expected. I was ready to sit and stew and be pissed off the entire time. I was going to sulk in silence and make it perfectly clear how I feel about this punishment.

But Officer Mellark is nothing at all like I expected, and this night has been anything but ordinary.

"Katniss, can I ask you something?" Peeta asks after a while.

I turn to look at him carefully, studying him until he glances over at me.

I don't answer him, but he takes my silence as a sign to keep talking.

"Why do you go to those abandoned projects? You know what kind of area that is, what kind of people go there, what goes on there. It's probably the worst place you can go in town. Especially by yourself and especially at night."

I shrug and look out the window again. A lump forms in my throat as I realize what he's thinking, that he's thinking I am basically a tragedy waiting to happen. Part of me knows he's right, but another selfish part of me knows I have my reasons. Reasons that revolve around my sister who is gone, my mother who is incapacitated because of it, and my father who uses work to avoid dealing with his grief.

And I'm not ready to share any of those reasons with Officer Peeta Mellark.

I hear him sigh at my lack of response, and part of me feels bad, but the larger part of me is too stubborn to care.

Before I know it, we're heading down a familiar dirt road that leads to the Seam—where the abandoned projects are. I turn to look at him and he only glances back at me for a brief moment.

"They want us patrolling this area more regularly," he explains. "There are groups of kids here every time I show up, and they're never up to any good."

"You sound like a grumpy old man," I mutter.

I think I see the corner of his mouth twitch as we pull up to the fence surrounding the projects.

"Can I get out this time?" I ask.

I can see him hesitate for a moment, clearly not wanting to risk anything, but eventually he relents. "Yeah, I guess this is as good a place as any to get you some first-hand experience."

We get out of the car and walk towards the fence. I spot the hole where I usually slide under to get inside. I debate for a moment whether to tell him about it so someone can repair it, but I haven't decided yet if I'm really ready to give this place up. It's too tempting to just disappear from the rest of the world, too easy to forget about everything else here.

We hear some voices coming from down the way, and Peeta looks up and motions for me to follow him. My heart starts beating frantically as we walk towards the source of the sound. I see Peeta put a hand on his gun, and I try and take deep, calming breaths. I tell myself that it's not going to be a crazy serial killer when we turn the corner. I know the usual crowd that hangs around here—the kids I went to school with who dropped out and now spend their time getting fucked up—but that doesn't make me any less scared

It's hard to stay rational in the middle of the night though when you're walking around an abandoned area.

"Hello there!"

I practically jump out of my skin, reaching for the back of Peeta's shirt and cowering behind him with no shame. He reaches his arm back and grabs my hand as he turns toward the sound. The feel of his hand on my skin makes my heart flip for an entirely different reason.

"Well what do we have here?" a familiar voice jeers.

Peeta pulls out his flashlight and points it across the way, illuminating the sight of four figures in the dark.

My stomach drops when I see who they are.

Cato, Glimmer, Marvel, and Clove—the clique of troubled kids that I went to high school with–are standing near the fence, watching us in amusement. Cato takes a long drag of his cigarette and steps forward, throwing it on the ground and stomping it out with his foot.

"Holy shit, is that Katniss Everdeen?" He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. "I had no idea you were training to be a cop. That's kinda hot."

I can feel Peeta's body tense as he lets go of me and steps forward.

"You guys have a good reason for being out here so late?"

"No, but we're on this side of the fence," Marvel pipes up, "so you can't really do shit to us."

"Watch your mouth," Peeta growls.

"You're kind of young to be a cop," Glimmer eyes Peeta, looking him up and down with appreciation. I feel my stomach twist with the sudden desire to pull her bleached blonde hair out.

"Damn Everdeen, you are looking good," Cato says, stepping a little closer. "You cold? It sure looks it."

I frown in confusion, and then cross my arms in front of my chest, a blush creeping up on my cheeks when I realize what he's implying. I knew I should have brought a sweater tonight.

"You guys need to get out of here," Peeta says, stepping between me and Cato. "You might not be trespassing, but I'm sure you don't want me checking your pockets right now for contraband."

"Ugh fine, fuck it," Clove pipes up. "Let's just get out of here. I'm over it anyways."

Cato, however, seems to have no interest in what his friends want to do at the moment. He steps closer, and I can feel Peeta tense next to me. I'm suddenly deeply uncomfortable, remembering the brash, loud guy in high school who was always in trouble and who always got what he wanted–including girls.

"Come back to my place," he grins, "I want to feel those long legs wrapped around my waist tonight."

"Back up," Peeta snaps, but Cato just completely ignores him.

"I bet you're a virgin too," Cato laughs. "I can take care of that part for you. It'll only hurt for a second, and then my cock—"

I don't get to hear about his cock though, because Peeta grabs him by the chest and slams him up against the fence. Cato is looking at Peeta like he forgot he was even there in the first place, and Peeta's face is red in anger, a vein in his temple clearly throbbing.

"What part of 'back up' don't you understand?" Peeta yells. "Get the fuck out of here before I drag all of your stoned asses down to County."

When Peeta releases him, Cato glares at him with a look of pure hate and then smooths down the front of his shirt. He mutters something under his breath as he rejoins Glimmer, Marvel and Clove before the group of them walks in the opposite direction, and they disappear into the night.

I finally let my eyes wander back in Peeta's direction. He's looking at me with such intensity that I don't quite know what to make of it.

"I...shit...are you okay?" he asks, his eyes full of genuine concern.

I nod dumbly, still a little shaken up from the whole encounter.

"God, this was not the best start to our week," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry you had to...experience those assholes tonight. You shouldn't have to go through that."

I take a deep breath and shake off the lingering feeling of unease that Cato's presence and words left me with. I was always lucky enough not to have to deal with Cato directly in school, but he has always given me the creeps. I remember the way he harassed girls who he set his eyes on, and I was just lucky enough to not have made an impression on him, but I guess that's over.

"It's not your fault," I assure him.

"Come on, let's head back. I'll drop you off at home."

When he reaches for my hand and pulls me back towards the cop car, I feel my heart do a funny little somersault in my chest and my skin warms from where his hand touches mine. I follow him without complaint and try to focus on why he has this kind of effect on me, but I'm too intoxicated by his presence to think clearly. All I know is that when we get back to the car and he lets go, I'm filled with disappointment.

We drive in silence back to my house just as dawn emerges in the sky. He pulls up to the home that I hate being in and turns the car off.

"I'm sorry, again, about what happened," he says quietly.

"It's okay," I reply. "It's not your fault.

He takes a deep shuttering breath, like he's preparing himself for something. "You're a beautiful girl, Katniss. You're beautiful, and you also probably weigh about 100 pounds soaking wet. The thought of you being in the wrong place at the wrong time–like those abandoned projects in the Seam–and running into a piece of shit like Cray or Cato is terrifying. Please don't go back there alone again."

I'm so shocked by his words–the fact he called me beautiful, not like he was complimenting me, just like he was stating a fact—and how he genuinely seems so afraid for my safety that I don't know what to say. I swallow past the lump in my throat and can only barely mange to nod in response, whispering a quiet 'okay.'

He gives me a crooked smile, like he's relieved now that I've agreed not to go back there, like he can rest easy now. "Thank you," he says. "I'll see you tomorrow night."

I get out of the car and walk up to my front door in a daze. When I get inside, I see his car pulling away, and I turn quickly to head upstairs to my room. I strip down to my bra and underwear and get under the covers, still in a daze from everything that happened tonight.

I should be able to fall asleep immediately considering how long I've been up, but my brain is working in overdrive at the moment and I can't stop my thoughts from going in all different directions.

Cray and Cato's faces blend and merge together when I close my eyes, taunting me with the leers and lascivious suggestions. I push them away and focus on Peeta, those blue eyes and broad shoulders and perfectly toned biceps. I think about the way he looked at me, the way I responded when he touched me, and I slowly start to feel myself relax. As my mind starts to power down and the tension melts away from my body, my fingers slip down between my legs.

I picture Officer Peeta Mellark kissing me, running his hands through my hair, rubbing my clit. I moan quietly and increase my ministrations, throwing my head to the side and undulating my hips in response.

In my fantasies, he is gentle and sweet, and he asks me if I'm sure before pushing inside me, breaking me for the first time.

He is big and he stretches me, but it feels so good.

My back arches as I come with a strangled shout.

Sleep claims me, and tonight there are no nightmares.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you so much for the response to this story so far, it really motivates me to write. All credit/thanks/appreciation to the wonderful Court81981 for all her help and support with this story. And thank you to the amazing Ro Nordmann for creating this wonderful banner! And to Court for being sweet enough to request it for me lol. I'm on tumblr ~ thegirlonpeetamellark :)**

When I meet up with Officer Mellark at 11:30 the next night for our second ride along together, it's a bit of a challenge to look him in the eyes.

He's warm and friendly and cracking jokes as we get in his car, but I can't stop thinking about the fantasies I had of him last night—or technically early this morning when I finally got home and fell into bed.

I've never touched myself with someone specifically in mind and the idea that he could affect me like that, that he could bring out this wanton side of me is a little disconcerting.

"Penny for your thoughts."

I jump, startled when his voice breaks the comfortable quiet inside the car. I flush a little and duck my head, hoping that what I was just thinking about isn't written clearly on my face.

"Oh, um nothing," I mumble. "Quiet night."

"Yeah, sometimes there's not a whole lot to do," Peeta laughs.

"What do you do then on the slow nights?" I ask. "Do you just drive around the whole time?

"Either that or pull up somewhere and just do look out," he replies. "I think that's what we're going to do actually. Chief Abernathy said residents were complaining about people running the stop sign on Mission Street late at night."

We drive through the residential part of town and pull up on a street that intersects with Mission. Peeta parks off to the side around a corner and beside a large oak tree that blocks his car from sight for any drivers approaching the stop sign.

"This is sneaky," I observe.

"Nothing wrong with it though," Peeta defends, with a little crooked smile. "If they don't want a ticket then they shouldn't run the stop sign."

"So are we just going to sit here all night?"

"You got plans?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"No, I just..." I falter and look away. I'm not about to tell him that just sitting here next to him for the next several hours both excites and scares me. I'm not sure I trust myself to be that close to him for that long with nothing else to occupy our attention. I might do something stupid—like kiss him.

"Let's play a game to pass the time," I suggest, trying to take my mind off of the delicious current of heat that runs through me thinking about those strong arms wrapping around me.

"Alright, what do you got?" he agrees.

"Well, the only thing that comes to mind is "Truth or Dare," but we obviously can't do many dares since we're stuck inside this car."

"Alright, let's just do 'Truth' then," he replies. "Nothing but the honest to goodness truth, and whatever we say in this car stays in this car."

I lock eyes with him and feel my heart beat start to quicken. Maybe this isn't such a good idea.

He licks his lips, and I squirm in my seat.

But the thought of really getting to know Officer Peeta Mellark is too tempting to pass up, even if I may regret it later on.

"Okay, I go first. Why did you become a cop?"

I don't know what I'm expecting, but when Peeta doesn't say anything for a long time I think maybe he's not so interested in playing this game anymore.

"I grew up in an abusive home," he finally admits. "My dad died when I was young and my mom beat the shit out of me for as long as I can remember. I hated that feeling of being powerless." He stares out the windshield blankly. "I guess I just didn't want to feel weak anymore. I wanted to help other people who might be suffering like I was."

There is a sudden lump in my throat that makes it hard to swallow as I imagine him being abused and frightened as a child. Neither of my parents is perfect, but they have never and would never physically hurt me. I can't even imagine growing up like that.

"It's the old adage," he says with a pained sort of laugh. "'To serve and protect.' Something about that really appealed to me, and the day I turned eighteen I moved out of my house and decided I was going to be a cop."

I'm still trying to process all this information when he turns to lock eyes with me. "Alright, my turn."

A brief feeling of panic hits me as I imagine having to reveal any of the secrets I have kept hidden away successfully so long. But then the thought of what he just shared with me—the intimate, raw details of his life—reminds me that for right now, in this moment, whatever we share in this car will stay here between us.

"Why would you go to those abandoned projects?"

Of course he would start with this. He can't just let it go. He's probably been dying to ask this since last night.

I take a deep breath and fiddle with my hands anxiously.

"Because I hate being at home," I answer quietly.

The silence that settles over us is heavy and filled with expectancy, but I don't say anything else. I can't. The words are stuck on the tip of my tongue, making me feel awkward and unsure.

"Why—?"

"You already got your question," I scold him, "it's my turn." I look into those blue eyes and feel my stomach flutter. "What are you afraid of?"

A corner of his mouth turns up before he looks away. "I'm scared that this job might might change me. I've seen how some of the older guys who have been on the force for 20-plus years are just completely unaffected. They're hardened and broken by the things they've seen and experienced. It's not even their fault, they can't help it; they have to be in order to keep their sanity. If you find a dead baby on the side of the road, you can't completely lose your shit, you have to be in control of your emotions." He takes a deep breath and shakes his head in exasperation. "I don't want that though. I don't want to be apathetic and unfeeling and dead inside. That's not who I am and I don't want to change that."

I take a moment to let that all really sink in. I think about the fact that Peeta's biggest fear is maintaining his sense of self, that he's grappling with existential questions like what makes him who he is and how to preserve that. Most people in his position would probably be scared of getting shot on the job, but he doesn't want to stop caring just because he's exposed to horrific things day in and day out.

I open my mouth to respond, but he stops me.

"Why do you hate being at home?"

I stare down at my lap and realize that with the way Peeta has already opened up to me so far it makes it a lot easier than I would have guessed to share with him something that I've never really told anyone.

"My dead sister's room is across the hall. My parents haven't touched it since she died almost three years ago, and I can't make myself go in there," I take a deep, shaky breath and tell myself over and over that I'm not going to cry. "My dad is never home because he'd rather work than deal with the daughter he lost and the one he still has. And my mom can barely function anymore. We have to hire someone to come and feed and bathe her."

In the quiet that follows, I realize I've been staring down at my lap for a long moment, avoiding his eyes and trying to hide from his scrutiny. When I finally lift my head to meet his eyes, though, I don't see any pity there, and the relief is so profound I can start to breathe easy.

Instead he's looking at me with an expression so intense that I can't quite decipher it. When he reaches out to take my hand, I don't hesitate in responding. As our fingers interlock, my heart thumps a quick, firm beat in response, his skin against mine an electric current awakening all my senses. His touch is more comforting and reassuring than anything he could say at the moment.

The silence between us goes on so long though that I start to get antsy. I like that he didn't try and say 'I'm sorry' or any of the other dumb things people say when they find out, but I suddenly need to break the quiet or I'll explode.

"My turn," I announce, and he chuckles. "How good of a shot are you with that thing?" I ask, gesturing to his gun.

He pulls away with a laugh, and the loss of his hand slipping from mine is unpleasant.

"I'm alright," he explains. "It's weird though. I still haven't really gotten used to the feeling of a gun in my hand. Maybe it'll come in time, but I doubt it. It just feels so foreign."

"I want to try."

He quirks an eyebrow at me, and I look back at him defiantly. "What? I do!"

"Alright, we can go to the shooting range tomorrow before the night shift starts, when I'm off the clock," he agrees. "But we should probably keep it just between us."

I nod in agreement and try to hide my smile at the thought of spending time with him alone outside of work.

At that exact moment, a car comes driving down the street ahead of us, barely lowering its speed for a few seconds, before rolling right through the stop sign in front of us. Peeta turns on the car and flicks on his siren as he makes a right onto the street to follow the car, effectively ending our little game of 'Truth.'

"Guess it's just one of those nights," he comments, as the car that ran the stop sign slows and starts to pull to the side ahead of us. "Lots of traffic stops and paperwork. Fascinating stuff."

"It's okay," I say, as he pulls behind the car and comes to a stop, "you can make it up to me later at the shooting range."

He doesn't try and hide his grin as he gets out of the car.

* * *

After I got home from the night shift I fell into bed just as the sun was starting to come up. I fell asleep easily this time with thoughts of seeing Peeta later on filling my mind. When I finally woke up it was mid-afternoon and I had just enough time to shower before I was supposed to meet him down at the shooting range.

"Alright your feet should be shoulder-width apart."

"Like this?"

"Um, no...here I'll show you."

I take a deep breath as Peeta moves to stand behind me. He puts his hands on my hips as he uses his foot to nudge my leg out a little further. He's practically pressed up against my back, and his close proximity makes it hard for me to focus on the fact I'm holding a gun right now.

I swallow hard, feeling his warm breath on the back of my neck. I'm really glad he can't see my face right now because it'd be pretty obvious the effect he's having on me.

"Yeah...um, like that," Peeta says, his hands lingering on my hips.

I'm holding the gun with both hands, my arms extended straight out and pointing towards the paper silhouette of a person about 20 feet away.

"Alright," he says, clearing his throat loudly as he drops his hands from my hips. "Give it a go."

I take a deep breath and run through everything he taught me, trying to calm my racing heart. I squeeze the trigger, and my eyes fall shut on instinct as the gun fires. I don't even come close to the target. The impact of the shot sends me stumbling back against Peeta's chest.

It's like backing into a brick wall he's so sturdy and strong. His arms are there to wrap around me though as he helps to keep me steady on my feet.

"Whoa, you okay there?" he laughs, his hand moving across the plane of my stomach unconsciously.

I feel the heat between my legs and can only nod dumbly in response.

"Let's try that again," he insists, grabbing for my hands to reposition the gun out in front of me. "This time I'll help you shoot it so you have a little support to handle the recoil until you get used to it."

He places his hands over mine so I'm effectively locked in his arms, his back pressed even tighter against me, his entire being surrounding me. I was a little nervous before about shooting a gun, but it's nothing compared to what I feel right now with his arms around me, with his scent invading my senses and his warmth burning against my skin.

"Don't be afraid," he murmurs against my hair, and for a second I think he's talking about something completely different. "You can't be scared when you're holding a gun; you have to be in charge."

I gather my resolve and force myself to focus on the deadly weapon in my hands rather than the powerful man behind me.

"Focus on your target and don't squeeze the gun too tightly."

I feel calmer, more sure of myself.

He eases off his hold, and I take aim at the target. When I shoot this time, my eyes stay open and while the recoil still jolts me backwards, his strong, solid body is there to keep me steady.

I don't hit the bullseye, but I come a lot closer than before.

"Damn," he breathes as I lower the gun, "you're a hell of a lot better at this your first time around then I ever was," he laughs.

"Well, I have a pretty good teacher," I shoot back automatically, surprising myself. I turn my head back to look at him, and only then do I realize his hands have dropped to my hips again.

I see his gaze lower to my lips, and my heart soars in my chest and my stomach clenches in anticipation for that half second. He licks his lips though and slowly moves back, pulling his hands off of me.

The disappointment hits me hard, but I try not to let it show.

"Why do you want to learn how to shoot a gun anyways?" he asks with a hint of amusement.

"We're not playing that game anymore," I reply, biting down on my bottom lip because I can't seem to shake how much he makes me want to smile.

With my focus on him now instead of the gun, I can fully appreciate just how good he looks in his street clothes. I can fully appreciate his broad shoulders and solid chest beneath his plain grey t-shirt and his dark-wash jeans that fit him just right.

He shakes his head and laughs, taking a step back. He's biting his lip now, too and it's almost like he can read my thoughts, that he feels this heat between us, that he is trying to put a safe distance between us.

"Alright, try it on your own this time," he instructs me, with a nod of his head at the target.

"No more help from the teacher?" I ask, raising my eyebrows at him.

He grins back at me. "You're a big girl."

"Maybe I like the extra help," I tease him.

He takes a step back closer to me, and I hold my breath. He's looking down at me with a little spark in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. He doesn't touch me, but I can feel him everywhere.

"You're trouble, you know that?"

Everything inside me is twisting and pulsating, gravitating towards him like a wild animal acting strictly on instinct.

"Why do you think I got stuck riding along with you for a week?"

* * *

That evening after the shooting range, and before I have to be back at the station for my third night with Peeta, I meet up with one of the few people I can consider a friend, Madge Undersee.

We grab a bite to eat at Panem Sports Bar & Grill, and she tells me about all the stuff she has to buy for college. I nod my head and pretend to be interested, but truthfully, I'm trying not to be bitter that in a couple months she gets to leave this town and I'll still be stuck here.

But I made my choice and now I have to live with it.

"So how is your little ride along going?" she asks, breaking me from my thoughts of self-pity.

I shrug and quickly divert my eyes. "It's good."

"Good?" she asks in disbelief. "You were fucking dreading it. A week of driving around with some old fogey cop lecturing you. How can it be good?"

I hesitate, debating whether or not I want to tell Madge about Peeta. I know she wouldn't tell anyone, and if I don't tell her, there's no one else I can really share this with. And if I'm being completely honest, keeping everything I'm feeling about Peeta bottled up might drive me crazy.

So I go ahead and tell her everything that's happened since that first night.

Her mouth drops open.

"Holy shit, you like him," she practically squeals, and I have never seen her giddy like this.

"Keep your voice down!" I scold her.

"I've never seen you like this about a guy. You're blushing!" she exclaims as she sips from her virgin strawberry daiquiri. Suddenly she pauses, her mouth hanging open. "Oh my god, is his last name Mellark?"

I nod my head in response, and her eyes go wide.

"Oh god! He was in my art class when I was a freshman and he was a senior. He is so hot!"

I have to bite back a laugh at Madge's response. Sometimes I wonder how we even became friends when we're so different. She is pretty and popular and outgoing—everything I'm not.

"Unf...you should definitely get on that Katniss. He is so damn fine."

"He's a cop."

"So?"

"He's older than me."

"So?"

I laugh and throw half my french fry at Madge, who dodges it easily.

"I mean, who better to pop your cherry than a smokin' hot cop with a sensitive side?"

I drop my head in my hands as my whole face and neck flush with embarrassment. I wish I hadn't drunkenly confessed to Madge about my virgin status one night a while back. She's always telling me I need to just 'get it over with'—like it's a problem I have that needs to be fixed, like my virginity is a leaky faucet.

Although, if I'm being honest...

The thought of feeling Peeta between my legs...

I squirm in my seat and take a sip of my water to try and calm down.

"Speaking of good-looking men," Madge says, her eyes going somewhere over my shoulder.

I turn in my seat as a tall guy with tan skin and bronze hair walks in. He flashes the hostess a handsome smile before heading over to the bar section of the restaurant. The guy looks like he could be on the cover of _GQ_. He's so good looking that he's almost too pretty.

It's only when he moves to the side that I get a glimpse of the man behind him.

The sight of Peeta sends my emotions into a tailspin.

"Oh my god," I breathe out, turning back to face Madge. I see her look from me back to Peeta and his friend a couple of times before her mouth falls open and her eyes widen a bit.

"Is that...?" she trails off and then seems to make up her mind without my help. She makes a series of high-pitched squealing noises that have me shushing her and begging her to keep it down.

"It's fate," she decides happily.

"It's not fate that this is the only halfway decent restaurant in town," I mumble.

"Go over there and say hi!" she insists.

"He's with his friend, I don't want to bug him," I shrug. "Besides I'm going to see him in a few hours anyways."

"Either go over there and talk to him, or I will. And trust me, you don't want me to go over there," she says with an evil smirk. "I'll tell him all about your little crush and how he played prominently into your naughty little fantasies the other night."

"Ugh, I hate you," I seethe, standing up in my seat.

"Love you too, bitch."

I take a deep breath and gather my resolve as I approach Peeta and his friend, who are seated at the bar watching the basketball game on one of the many big screens.

I tap him on the shoulder and slide onto the open bar stool beside him. "Hey there," I try and act as calm and cool as I can manage.

"Katniss...hey!" Peeta responds, clearly surprised to see me here.

"Grabbing a bite to eat before work?"

He laughs. "Yeah, I was down at the shooting range earlier today with an eager student and I worked up quite an appetite," he smirks at me with a arch of his eyebrow. I flush with pleasure when I realize he's teasing me and getting off on it.

Well, if he wants to play it like that...

I scoot to the edge of my seat until I'm practically standing in the small space between our bar stools. I see him react instantly, turning his body towards me...dropping his arm down to his side...licking his lips.

"You must be Katniss?"

I'm broken from my Peeta-filled train of thoughts when I notice, for the first time, the ridiculously handsome guy he walked in with sitting on his other side. He shoots me his most charming smile, and I have to admit he's quite the looker.

"Yeah, that's me."

"I knew Peeta had the privilege of driving around a juvenile youth this week," he says happily, "but he didn't mention it was a raven-haired beauty like yourself." He laughs and puts a hand on Peeta's shoulder. "Bet you wanted to keep that little fact all to yourself, huh buddy?"

Peeta shoots me a sardonic look, and I get the vibe that this guy is just like an older brother figure to Peeta, constantly ribbing him and taking pleasure in making him squirm. I figure they can't actually be related since they have such different looks.

He extends his hand out to me.

"Officer Finnick Odair," he smiles at me as I shake his hand. "I'm the cop whose partner you're stealing this week."

"Oh, well...I'm sorry about that Officer Odair," I laugh, not so subtly moving a little bit closer to Peeta and putting my hand on his bicep. "I promise I'll take good care of him for you."

The harsh breath of air Peeta releases and the heat that fills me sparks the tension in the air that I know has to be noticeable to more than just the two of us.

It seems it is because I see Finnick's eyes dart between us quickly before clearing his throat. "Um, right. Uh, I'm just going to run to the bathroom then if you'll excuse me."

He slips away quietly, but neither Peeta nor I make a move to separate.

I study Peeta carefully: the heavy breaths he's taking and his hooded eyes. It becomes clear that he feels this thing between us as much as I do. I run my arm up and down his bicep, his skin warm to the touch. He exhales shakily and murmurs my name.

Encouraged, I move myself so I'm standing between his bent legs and drop my hand to his thigh. I rub the denim material of his jeans without shame, not quite sure what has come over me, other than the influence Peeta has on me.

"Let's continue our little game of 'Truth,'" he says, putting his hand over mine to stop my movements. "What are you doing, Katniss?"

I bite my lip and try not to smile. "I'm rubbing your thigh," I reply innocently. "And you certainly seem to be enjoying it," I add, nodding at the growing bulge in his pants.

"That's–"

I cut him off before he can continue. "Uh uh, you already got your question. It's my turn."

I lock eyes with him and press even closer into the already infinitesimal space between our bodies. "Do you want me, Peeta?"

He opens his mouth to reply, but the red-headed waitress takes that moment to drop off their food.

"Bacon Cheddar Ranch Burger and Mesquite Chicken?" she announces, holding Peeta and Finnick's plates in each of her hands, oblivious to the death glare I'm shooting her.

I step away from him reluctantly, not even trying to hide my annoyance while Peeta looks like he just got granted a reprieve. Finnick returns from the bathroom, and I know the moment is effectively ruined.

"Well, I should get back to my friend," I announce. I tell Officer Odair it was nice meeting him and then put my hand on Peeta's shoulder and lean in to whisper in his ear.

"I'll see you later tonight."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So sorry this took a while to get up! I appreciate all the reviews/favs/follows so much tho :) I hope you guys continue to enjoy this and just as an FYI this will be an 8 chapter story. Thanks as always to the most amazing beta/friend/BFF/ Cout81981 for all her help. Happy Holidays and Merry (early) Christmas! :) I'm on tumblr ~ thegirlonpeetamellark!**

"Hold on, I got to make a call."

I roll my eyes in annoyance as Peeta successfully brushes me off for what feels like the hundredth time.

He has been closed off and quiet, barely saying more than two words to me since our night began. And while I was initially hurt, now I'm just pissed off. He doesn't just get to pretend that there is nothing going on between us. I saw the way he reacted to my touch at dinner earlier. I saw the way he licked his lips when he looked at me. I saw how hard he got when I rubbed his thigh.

He stops talking on his radio just as he pulls into a mostly empty parking lot near one of the town's dive bars.

"I got a report of a fight at this bar here so I'm going to have to go check it out," he explains without looking at me. "This is a pretty shady joint, so it's probably best if you wait in the car."

I huff in exasperation. "Great, I'll just sit here and twiddle my thumbs. This is definitely helping reform my criminal behavior."

He shoots me a look. "I'll be right back."

I watch him walk across the parking lot and step into the bar and out of sight.

His behavior so far is infuriating. After I got home from dinner with Madge, I made sure to actually fix my hair and put on a touch of make-up before I had to be down at the station. I was expecting we'd pick up right where we left off with that incredibly hot, sexually charged moment, but so far it's like it never happened.

I get that he's technically on duty right now and it's probably not the best time to deal with what's going on with us, but I hate the feeling of being ignored and pushed aside.

It's too similar to how my parents have treated me since Prim died.

But more than anything, I'm surprised at how I've acted around him so far. I've always been closed off and quiet and shy. I've had few friends, and even fewer guys show any interest in me. It's almost though like I can't control how I act around him, the things I do or say. Being around him pushes all logic and rational thought to the outer recesses of my mind. All I can think about is him...and me...and our bodies pressing up against each other...his hands caressing my breasts, squeezing my behind, coaxing a raging inferno between my legs.

I shake my head to clear it and decide I need some air.

I get out of the car and move to the front, hopping up onto the hood to wait for him to return.

More than twenty minutes go by and a weird little knot of anxiety starts to form in my chest as I wonder what's taking him so long. I start to see a few people saunter outside, though, and when the last car leaves, Peeta finally exits the bar.

He walks across the parking lot at a brisk pace with his head down.

When he gets about five feet away he finally notices me sitting on the hood of the car.

He slows, almost coming to a complete stop as he approaches me carefully. Like I'm a wild animal about to attack. And maybe I am.

"You should have waited in the car."

I roll my eyes. "I needed some air."

"You're not good at following instructions, are you?"

I scoff and narrow my eyes at him. "What's your problem? Why are you being such a jerk tonight?"

He shakes his head in exasperation as I slide down the hood a bit so I can put my feet up on the front bumper, resting my elbows on my knees.

"I'm just trying to do my job, Katniss," he says, making a point not to look at me, and it's like a punch to the gut.

Instantly I'm mortified by my actions, and I see myself how he must see me in this moment: A bratty teenager who doesn't listen and has done nothing but harass him and prevented him from focusing on his work. I want to run away and hide. I want to crawl in a hole and never come up because clearly, I have no idea what I'm doing.

"Okay, fine," I manage to say through the lump in my throat, "I'll stop bugging you. I get it. You don't want me—"

I make a move to stand up off the hood of the car at the same time he closes the distance between us in a flash. He moves himself into the space between my legs and hooks his hands on the back of my thighs to pull my legs up towards him, forcing me flat on my back.

He grabs each of my hands and pins them down against the hood of the car, leaning his body into mine until we're so close barely an inch separates us.

"Damn it, Katniss," he growls, trailing his nose along the underside of my jaw and down my throat. "Of course I want you."

His lips place kisses along the crook of my neck and then blazes a path across my collarbone. When he pushes his hips against mine so I can feel his hard length pressing against my heat and with only our clothes separating us, I whimper in pleasure. I might be a virgin, but my body wants him inside me—my body is craving for him to fill me up.

"You feel that? That's how much I want you."

I moan and gyrate my hips against him, searching for some friction to quell the throbbing ache.

He pulls back but keeps his grip on my hands, holding me in place.

"I want you so much I'm going crazy. I can't sleep. I can't eat. I can't even focus on my job when I'm on duty because I can't stop thinking about you." He's looking down at me with such an expression of wonder and awe it makes my chest tighten in a good way. I have never had anyone look at me like that, and I don't want him to stop.

"We can't though...you know we can't. You're still a minor, for one thing."

"I turn eighteen in six days!" I protest, but he just ignores me.

"And I don't even want to think about what Chief Abernathy would say if he found out that you and I started hooking up," he groans.

"No one has to know," I suggest.

He finally releases my hands and leans down to press a kiss to my forehead. My arms wrap around his back to pull him closer, and my legs lock at his side.

"I'm sorry," he breathes out. "I can't. We can't."

He steps away, leaving me empty and alone, staring up at the night sky that is shining speckled with stars. I take a moment to compose myself, lying there on the hood of a cop car, knowing that the first guy I've ever really truly liked, the first one I've felt something for, the first one that I could picture actually being with, is unattainable.

* * *

"Favorite color?"

"Green."

"Yours?"

"You're going to laugh," he says with a little crooked grin, "but orange."

"Orange," I repeat, trying not to let my surprise show.

"I know, I know," he laughs, "but I don't mean the prison jumpsuit kind of orange. More like the sunset, a softer shade that has a little red and pink mixed in."

I picture it in my mind's eye and understand what he means now. "You're right, that's a beautiful color," I agree.

After our little moment on the hood of his car, we resumed the night's ride along more at ease with each other's presence. Despite the underlying sexual tension between us, that feeling of him holding me down and pressing himself into me lingering in the back of my mind, we're able to act friendly and normal with each other. I guess talking and being cordial with each other is better than nothing at all.

He was the one to suggest resuming our little game of 'Truth' again, and I agreed. He set the tone early on, too, by keeping the questions PG and not venturing into any dangerous territory.

"Any hidden talents?" he asks.

I open my mouth to answer and then close it. I was about to brush off the question with a joke; something teasing that might get us talking about this sexual tension between us again. But for some reason my mind takes me back to those times when I was little, and Prim would come crawling into my bed, complaining about nightmares and asking me to sing her to sleep—how she would tell me I had a beautiful voice and that it made all her worries and fears go away.

For reasons I can't really understand or even explain to myself, I want to share this part of myself with him. When I'm around him, I want to strip away the protective layers I usually keep up between those around me and myself. He makes me want to open up and lay myself bare so he can see me for who I really am. I don't fear his judgment—I welcome it. I want to break the things that separate us from each other so we can be closer and even closer still.

The feeling is as terrifying as it is overwhelming.

"I'm an okay singer," I settle on saying.

"Just okay?" he asks, his eyes on the road, and a little crooked smile lighting up his face.

"Better than average," I amend.

He laughs. A full-out belly laugh that makes me smile instantly. I love that sound.

"What about you, Officer Mellark? Any special talents I might not guess just by looking at you?"

"Hmm…" he considers it as we drive along the dark, empty streets. "I like to draw, paint, sketch. I just get these images in my head, and sometimes I feel like I'll go crazy unless I get them down on paper: the sun coming up after a long night shift, the view from the city up at look-out point." He turns and looks me directly in the eyes. "A beautiful girl."

I blush and stare down at my hands folded in my lap.

A moment passes and the swirling feeling of nerves and excitement in my stomach settles.

"You can't say things like that," I whisper eventually.

I lift my head to peek at him out of the corner of my eye. He swallows roughly, his eyes trained straight ahead.

He nods his head and says, "I know."

* * *

When the night shift is over, Peeta suggests breakfast at his favorite diner and I agree.

Some waffles and orange juice sound amazing right now.

Getting to spend some extra time with Peeta doesn't hurt either.

I know this is a dangerous little game we're playing, blurring the line between friends and something more, but it's too hard not to. I like being around him too much, and right now I'll take whatever I can get.

We slide into a booth, and I cover my mouth to stifle a huge yawn as I skim the menu.

"Night shift catching up on to you?" Peeta asks.

"A little," I admit, deciding on Belgian waffles with strawberries and cream.

"Well good morning, Officer Mellark!" I hear a clear, sultry voice greet Peeta. A girl older than me with dark-red hair, porcelain-white skin, and striking features approaches our table with a smile and a note pad in hand. She has an apron wrapped around her waist, and she keeps her attention focused solely on Peeta.

"Hey, Lavinia," Peeta returns with an easy smile.

"You look like you had a hard night," she says, and with all her attention on Peeta, I can study her freely. I can watch the way she eyes him like he's the best thing she's seen all week. "The usual?" she asks, her back towards me like I don't exist.

"Yup," he nods and then looks at me.

Finally the girl turns, and I feel her eyes looking me up and down critically. "And for you?" she asks, her tone noticeably less friendlier.

I give her my order, and she spins on her heel and disappears back towards the kitchens.

"She's nice," I mumble, partly under my breath, resting my head against my hand.

"Lavinia?" Peeta says, his eyebrows pinching together in confusion. "She's great."

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, you would think that, since she was fawning all over you."

He scoffs but doesn't deny it. "She's sweet. I come here a couple times a week. She's always good company."

I laugh and look at him incredulously. "What, have you banged her before?"

He looks at me in disbelief, like the idea is preposterous. "No, I haven't 'banged her' before. I don't go around sleeping with just anyone you know," he says, and for some reason those words makes my stomach flip.

I push that feeling aside though and focus on the situation at hand.

"Well, she definitely wants you," I shrug, trying to keep my tone light, like it doesn't bother me.

A few moments later, she returns with our coffee, and when she puts down my cup, she turns right to Peeta, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"You must be exhausted, poor thing." She's leaning against the edge of the table, closing me off so she can have a private moment with him. "I don't know how you do the night shift for a whole week."

"Lots of coffee," Peeta replies good-naturedly.

I keep my eyes down, staring at the countertop and watching them interact out of the corner of my eye.

She kneads his shoulder gently, and I can see the flush lighting up his cheeks.

How can he not see how good-looking he is? How can he not know that his personality…his confidence…his entire demeanor are unbearably attractive?

Suddenly I'm having a very hard time believing that he doesn't get girls throwing themselves at him all the time.

And I'm having an even more difficult time accepting that he doesn't relish the attention, or take these girls up on their silent invitations more often than not.

Without really meaning to, my hand jerks forward on the table and knocks over my cup of coffee. The rich, dark liquid spreads out over the surface as Lavinia shrieks and jumps away from the edge of the table.

I start mumbling out apologies and reaching for the napkins in the dispenser. Lavinia grumbles and declares that she'll be right back to clean it up. For some reason, my hand is nearly shaking, and when Peeta and I reach for a napkin at the same time, our hands collide and I pull back like I've been burned.

"Sorry," I mutter, my face burning.

"Katniss–" Peeta starts to say something, but Lavinia returns at that exact moment.

She uses a towel to wipe down the remaining mess and then turns back to him like nothing ever happened. She trails her hand down his arm, a long, lingering touch that makes my insides squirm, and tells him the food will be right out.

"Sorry I'm a klutz," I say, not meeting his eyes.

He takes a long moment before answering and I know he's trying to work out what just happened in his mind, deciding whether it's worth bringing up again.

Finally he settles on letting the moment pass. "It happens."

When our food comes we eat mostly in silence and the golden brown waffles makes me feel a little better. I am able to forget about Lavinia for a while— her womanly figure and the easy rapport she has with Peeta—and just enjoy the meal and his company.

"Thanks for joining me," Peeta says when we finish. "It's nice to have someone to share a meal with."

A spark of something flares up in my chest, and I can't help but to return his smile. As soon as it comes though, Lavinia dropping off the check at our table stamps it out.

She touches his arm again and leans down to whisper something in his ear.

I watch him, his eyes averted from mine, not leaning away from her touch.

"Excuse me," I say, wiping my mouth with a napkin. I throw down a twenty-dollar bill and slip out of the booth. I step outside the greasy diner and walk towards the car.

I lean against the passenger door and try and get a hold of myself.

How is it possible to feel so jealous over someone you have no claim to?

"Katniss!"

I hear him calling my name, but I don't look up at him until he's a few feet away.

When I do, I have to swallow the lump that has formed in my throat.

There is an aching, hollow part inside me that has become almost impossible to ignore since this night began—since he pinned me to the hood of his car and let me feel how far his desire goes.

I want him.

I want him more than I have wanted anything else. And seeing that bitch put her hands on him made me feel sick.

"I told you she wanted you," I try and say without sounding like a petulant child, but I am unsuccessful.

"I don't care," he says, taking a step closer to me. "I don't want her."

I swallow thickly and let that sink in.

I don't know who reaches out first, but suddenly were standing a foot away from each other; our hands joined together, fingers interlocked.

I pull him towards me.

I can feel his warm breaths, but I keep my head down, eyes locked on where our hands are linked.

"Kiss me," I whisper, and it is a quiet, desperate plea, shared between us like a secret.

He doesn't do or say anything for a long moment, and I feel myself tense up, scared of his rejection and scared of ruining this moment.

Finally, he leans in towards me, and I lift my head to look at him.

He places a chaste kiss on my cheek and then pulls back.

I wrench my hands from his grasp and cross them in front of my chest, protecting myself. I look away and clench my jaw, stubborn and upset.

"I'll drop you off at home," he says, rounding the car to his side.

I stand there for a moment, trying not to feel the sting of his rejection like a slap across the face. But I can't. It hurts too much.

I slide into the passenger seat and don't look at him once during the ride back to my house.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Again, I can't thank you all enough for your support of this story! I'm so glad you're enjoying it! My apologies this chapter was a little delayed, I'll try and get the next one up sooner. Thanks again to the amazing Court81981 for being an awesome beta and friend. If you aren't reading everything she writes you're missing out! I'm on tumblr ~ thegirlonpeetamellark :)**

The next night during the ride along Peeta goes out of his way to be extra friendly to me. I know what he's doing; I know he's trying to pretend like nothing happened last night, like I didn't make a complete fool out of myself, but it's not really working. Every time I remember the way I pathetically asked him to kiss me, I want to crawl into a hole somewhere and hide.

One of the first stops we make during the night is up to Look-Out Point, the place where Peeta said he likes to draw the view of the city, and also the place most high school kids drive up to park and make-out.

When we pull up, there are only a couple of cars parked near the cliff overlooking the city, and I can't help the fluttering feeling in my stomach when he turns the engine off. As stupid as it is, as much as I know it's _not_ going to happen, being up here with him, just the two of us, with the quiet and the beautiful view, gets me thinking about the things I want to do with him...to him.

"I'll be right back," he says, startling me out of my thoughts. "They want me making sure kids aren't drinking up here." He steps out of the car, and when he closes the door behind him I watch him carefully as he approaches the first car, knocking on the driver's window.

Suddenly I'm irrationally jealous of the two people inside the car with the steamed-up windows. I'm so incredibly jealous that they can just come up here and have a private moment all to themselves, that nothing is stopping them from being together the way they want to.

I think about being inside a small space, with nothing to worry or think about except the feel of Peeta's lips on mine. I imagine him running his hands all over my body, caressing and stroking and gently squeezing all the right places. The rush of wet heat between my legs makes me moan, and I close my eyes and rest my head against the car window.

Before Peeta came along, I never felt like this. I would use my fingers to get myself off once in a while, but it was nothing this intense. I never felt this burning need moving through my veins, soaking into my bones until the desire becomes almost overwhelming.

You'd think I'd be wary about physical intimacy given everything—my family, my past, my lack of experience—but something about Peeta pushes all those doubts and fears aside. I feel comfortable in his presence, and I know he would never do anything I didn't want to do.

I want to feel him—the hard muscles of his chest and the strength of his arms. He's warm and solid everywhere, and the memory of him pressing into me on the hood of the car makes me bite down on my bottom lip, my hand moving to rest in my lap.

I want to take his cock in my hands. I want him to tell me what he likes. I want him to rub my clit in firm, steady circles while he kisses my neck.

My hand slips down to the seam of my jeans, right at the apex of my thighs. Before I can really consider it I'm rubbing against the rough fabric, aching for some friction to quell the throbbing between my legs.

I hear footsteps and I immediately stop, yanking my hand away like I've been burned. I open my eyes to see Peeta walking back to the car, his head down.

When he gets in I'm thankful that it's so dark up here, because my cheeks are burning red at what he almost caught me doing.

"Well, that was easy," he laughs. "No one was drinking. But I still feel weird and awkward about interrupting them during a private moment like that."

His words bounce around in my head, replaying over and over. He almost caught me in the middle of my own private moment.

I nod my head without really saying anything, and he looks over at me.

With a little sigh and a sad expression, he starts the car.

"I want to show you something," he says, backing out of the space.

My stomach is a mess of nerves and excitement at his cryptic statement when, instead of heading back down the dirt path towards town, he drives along the cliff until he reaches a more secluded spot I never knew about before. It's barely big enough for his car to fit into, with low-hanging trees surrounding it on every side. And when he comes to a stop, I'm in awe at the beauty in front of me.

This spot gives a different vantage point of the city. There are still the twinkling lights off in the distance, but the cliff is not as steep and instead immediately below us is more of the woods that surround this area. It takes me a while for my eyes to adjust, but when I do, I realize that there is a stream running down the ledge and into a lake. The lake is beautiful and calm, and the water's ripples are illuminated only by the moonlight. The sight takes my breath away.

"This is amazing," I whisper, afraid to break the trance of this perfect moment.

"Katniss..." Peeta says, reaching over to grab my hand.

My heart jumps as I look at my small, olive hand between his two strong ones. He rubs his thumb soothingly over the back of palm and my stomach twists. What is he doing?

"Katniss, I've been thinking..."

Those words send me reeling, and I feel myself inching closer to him with bated breath.

He doesn't pull back.

When he opens his mouth to say something, though, we're both jarred from this private moment from an urgent call coming in over his radio requesting for backup.

"Shit," he mutters dropping my hand and grabbing his radio.

I try to not let my disappointment show.

"Office Mellark responding to the 211 in progress, I'm on my way."

* * *

A 211, apparently, is a robbery, and this one happens to be at a convenience store. When we pull up, there are already two other cop cars parked out front, and Peeta parks in the next parking lot over, away from the store and off to side so we're out of sight.

"Stay in the car and don't get out for any reason," he commands, putting the car in park. "If for any reason anything happens and you feel scared for your safety or you haven't heard or seen me or any other officers in an unusual amount of time you hold down this button on the radio and call for backup."

The look on his face and the tone of his voice—they're severe and unflinching, and my heart starts pounding as I realize why he's talking like this. This isn't just a robbery, this is an armed robber and it is serious enough for two cops to call for backup.

"Peeta— " I start to say, but he cuts me off.

"Katniss, do you understand?"

"Yes," I nod my head dumbly.

"You'll be perfectly safe here," he adds, almost like he's trying to convince himself.

He gives me one last look full of so much unspoken emotion between the two of us that it leaves me frozen, unable to do or say anything as he gets out of the car and walks toward the convenience store.

I feel nauseous when he steps inside the store with his gun drawn and disappears from sight. The reality that Peeta is a cop and has to face dangerous situations like this all the time is hitting me full force, and I don't know how I can stand it.

My heart aches painfully with every beat, and I have to remind myself to breathe as the seconds start to tick away. I hate sitting here doing nothing, just waiting to see if something bad happens or not. I feel useless, and I start biting my nails down until they hurt.

It feels like it's been ages since he's left, but when I look at the clock he hasn't even been gone for ten minutes. This anxious feeling in my chest is unbearable. How can anyone live like this, knowing that the people they care for are constantly putting themselves in danger every day?

Finally, I hear commotion coming from the store, and I sit up in my seat, trying to get a better look.

_Bang! Bang! Bang!_

I scream and nearly jump out of my seat at the sound of gunshots, the front window of the store shattering, glass falling everywhere. I fumble with my seat belt as I try and get out of the car, because for some reason my immediate reaction is to go towards the gunshots.

Because Peeta is there.

There is a lot of shouting, and a couple of other cop cars pull up to the store, as I get closer to get a better look.

The first person to exit the store clutches their arm, the dark red color of blood staining their hand.

My heart stops when I see it's a cop with blonde hair.

I think I open my mouth to scream, but I'm not sure if any noise actually comes out.

I run towards the injured cop, frantic and desperate. But I only get within ten yards of him when another cop grabs me, stopping my progress.

"Excuse me, miss, this is a crime scene. I'm going to need you step back."

"You don't understand! Peeta!" I cry helplessly.

The cop who I thought was Peeta turns to look at me, and it's like I'm hit upside the head when I see a completely unfamiliar face looking back at me. The cop has blonde hair, but it's much shorter than Peeta's, and he's a bit taller too.

I turn to look towards the door of the convenience store, and I see Officer Odair—Peeta's partner—exiting with a guy dressed all in black, his hands behind his back, restrained by handcuffs.

Following them closely behind is Peeta.

My whole body deflates when I see that he's okay. He's healthy and whole and he doesn't seem to have a scratch on him.

He looks around and when he locks eyes with me, when he sees me looking haggard and frantic, being held back by another cop, he freezes, his eyes going wide with concern.

"Katniss!" he shouts, jogging over towards me and closing the distance between us.

"She's with me," he tells the cop who has his arm on me. "Thanks, Brutus."

He grabs me by the arm as the other cop releases me, and before I can even open my mouth to say anything he turns and shouts over at Finnick.

"You got everything under control, Odair?"

I see Finnick glance between Peeta and me, a moment of hesitation as he takes in Peeta's hand on my arm. He nods in response and waves Peeta off.

Almost immediately, Peeta starts walking back towards his car in the other lot and away from all the commotion. His grip on my arm is firm, but not too strong. If I wanted to, I could pull away, but I don't.

A lump forms in my throat when I imagine him yelling at me for getting out of the car.

I don't mind if he yells at me though. It's better than the alternative—it's better than something horrible having happened in that store where I wouldn't be able to feel his touch or hear his voice again.

He releases me when we get to the car, and I walk towards the back so we are hidden from sight and lean against the rear bumper, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, hating how my voice breaks.

I wipe the tears from my cheeks. He approaches me slowly and comes to stand right in front of me, but I stubbornly keep my head down.

"Katniss..."

Just the way he says my name, the soft, pleading tone that feels like a caress makes me break down. Instead of yelling or getting upset with me, he's being gentle and sweet.

I cover my face with my hands as the tears flow freely and I choke on a sob. I feel his arms wrap around my waist and pull me closer to him. I bury my head against his chest, as I take deep heaving breaths to try and calm down.

Eventually the wave of emotion settles down as I mentally chastise myself over getting so upset. Nothing happened. Peeta is fine. I don't know why I'm reacting like this.

"Hey, it's okay," he whispers, rubbing his hands up and down my back.

When I've composed myself enough to fully appreciate the position we're in, the embrace and his arms moving over my body, I start to feel a completely different kind of emotion. I realize in this moment that more than the possibility of losing Peeta, the possibility of something having happened to him tonight without taking things further between us, without taking a chance and throwing caution to the wind to feel his lips on mine, is what has gotten me so upset.

I hastily wipe my eyes and then pull back so our faces are mere inches away from one another.

"I was scared..."

"I know. It's okay," he assures me with a small smile.

My gaze drops down to his lips, pink and full and inviting. He sees it and I feel him tense up. The way our bodies are pressed against each other, the hard, solid muscle of his frame all around me suddenly leaves me short of breath.

"Peeta..." I trail off, steeling my resolve. "I want you. I think about being with you all the time."

I inch closer to him just barely, and I see him swallow thickly.

I don't close the distance between us, though. I want this to be his choice too. I want him to show me how he really feels. I don't want this to have been solely my doing.

I'm not disappointed.

He lifts a hand to cup the side of my face and leans down to kiss me.

He sucks tenderly at my bottom lip, his tongue peeking out to trace the sensitive flesh. My hands curl into his shirt as I move my lips against his. Everything is slow and gentle, our mouths moving against one another with ease. When my tongue meets his and our mouths widen to allow one another access, I feel the passion between us explode.

My lower belly clenches in response as I feel him lick his way into my mouth. He tastes me thoroughly, and our teeth and tongues and lips collide in a dizzying match. I gasp as he bites down on my bottom lip softly, the ache between my legs throbbing in response.

"Peeta..." I whine, desperate for more.

He kisses me again, sweet, closed-mouth kisses before we finally pull away, breathing hard.

Neither of us says anything for a long moment. I'm still too wrapped up in that kiss to focus on anything else.

"We should um...we should uh..." Peeta loses his train of thought a couple of times, apparently unable to form a coherent sentence.

I laugh and tilt my head back to look at him.

He looks at me and licks his lips, and I know that kiss was not even close to being enough.

He runs hand through his hair and then checks his watch. "Shit, we've still got two hours on this night shift."

I groan in frustration.

"Let's um...let's get back in the car," he says, although he makes no move to release me from his arms.

"Do we have to?" I ask, leaning in to kiss along his jaw line.

He lets out a shaky breath as my lips inch along his skin. When I bite down softly on his ear lobe, he moans and then seems to shake himself out of it, stepping back and keeping me at arm's length.

He walks me over to the passenger seat and opens the door for me as I slide inside. He quickly moves around to his side and joins me. He backs up out of the spot and pulls onto the street without saying a word.

"Let's just get through the rest of this night," he mumbles, like he's just talking to himself.

"Umm…what?"

He glances over at me and the look he gives me—eyeing me up and down without reservation—makes my heart slam against my chest painfully. No one has ever looked at me like that, the lust and desire so clear on his face. I bite my lip and return his gaze.

"We can't do anything else while I'm still on duty and you're my responsibility," he explains, his eyes going back to the road. "But when this shift ends, I want to be alone with you."

The words hit me, leaving me breathless and giddy. The nerves and excitement burn through me, and suddenly I can't sit still, desperate for this night shift to be over. A small part of me is anxious about going down that road, being alone with Peeta and where that could lead. But the larger, stronger part of me can't wait for what's to come.

"I want that too," I reply, leaning in towards him.

"Come back to my apartment with me," he says, and I'm nodding my head eagerly.

"Yes."

"Stay the night."

I laugh. "You mean the morning."

"We don't have to do anything...I just want to be with you."

I swallow past the emotion in my throat. The way I feel about him in such a short amount of time is scary and overwhelming—and possibly the best thing that's happened to me.

"I want to be with you too."

The grin that breaks across his face is enough to keep me counting down the minutes until we're both done for the night.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Look how quickly I updated! Be proud of me haha. Thanks again for all the amazing support. I'm so happy you guys are enjoying this story. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. Thanks as always to the amazing Court81981 for beta'ing and being a fantastic friend and person. She just posted a freaking AMAZING one-shot today that you have to go check out (The Seam). Enjoy! I'm on tumblr ~ thegirlonpeetamellark :)**

Peeta's apartment is clean. It's not too small either, despite it being a one-bedroom.

It smells good too. Like freshly baked bread.

These are the thoughts that run through my head as Peeta leads me into his living room and pulls me down to the couch to sit beside him. I'm focusing on these mundane details because the fever pitch inside me, the nerves and excitement and anticipation of being here alone with him, is almost too much.

"Hey," he smiles, using a finger to tilt my chin in his direction.

He changed at the station and the sight of him in nothing but jeans and a t-shirt twists my stomach in knots, because I'm not sure how it's possible that someone as attractive as him actually likes me back.

"You okay?" he asks, his eyebrows pinching together in concern.

I nod my head in response, but still find it difficult to meet his eyes. I want him. I want this. Us. I want it so much it's scaring me.

"You sure?" He reaches down and laces his fingers through mine.

I swallow and set my resolve, determined not to let my nerves ruin this moment.

"Kiss me," I whisper.

This time he doesn't deny my request. When he leans in to kiss me, I sigh against his mouth as a pleasant warming sensation floods to every part of my body. His lips are hypnotic, lightly sucking and tasting and pushing, making it impossible to think about anything else.

His kisses pull me under, and when I run my hands through his hair he gently guides me down onto the couch so I'm laying on my back and he's hovering above me. He moves himself into the space between my legs, and the warmth that has spread through me starts to burn hotter.

He is everywhere. His chest presses against mine, his hips are flush against my own, and his tongue is in my mouth. He is tasting me, claiming me and possessing me.

And it's good. He is so good. Better than I could have imagined.

He drags his lips away from mine and immediately starts attacking my neck, sucking and tasting the flesh as he works his way up towards my ear.

"Peeta..." I moan, helplessly, circling my hips in response.

The gush of wetness between my legs is almost unbearable. I have never been this wet. I have never been this ready.

He grunts and pushes his hips into mine. I gasp and grab at his biceps when I feel his hard length right where I'm aching for him the most.

He pulls back and looks down at me. "You okay?"

I nod my head shakily, unable to form a coherent thought at the moment.

In one quick move, before I can even comprehend what's happening, Peeta flips our positions so he's lying back on the couch and I'm on top of him. I laugh and push my hair out of my face.

"What was that?"

He shrugs. I'm suddenly aware of both his hands on my hips, of the way I'm straddling him right now and hovering over his erection.

"Just thought you might feel more comfortable like this," he explains. "This way you're in charge. You get to set the pace."

My chest tightens in a good way. I'm hit again by how caring and genuinely good he is. I want him in the most basic, feral way. But I also feel a connection with him that is more real than anything I have ever felt before.

I smile down at him and move in to kiss him again. Our lips slant and push and taste each other with a reckless need. His thumbs stroke the bare skin of my hips between my shirt and jeans. I moan and rock my hips against him, rubbing my throbbing center against his now rock-hard dick.

He hisses through his clenched teeth, and I feel him push against me a little in response. I clutch at his shirt and start to rock my hips against him more aggressively. The seam of my jeans is hitting my clit just right, and the feel of him beneath me, knowing how much he wants me, is only spurring me on.

I pull away from his lips to catch my breath and I start to find a rhythm. His grip on my hips is firm and his face his dazed with lust, his jaw slack and his eyes hooded.

I'm whimpering now, breathing hard and completely lost in pleasure as I race towards my climax. This feels too good for me to be embarrassed, or worried about anything else. I feel every muscle in my body tightening in anticipation before it hits me like a tidal wave, the explosion so much more intense than everything I have ever experienced.

I cry out and fall against him, trembling and seeing stars. He rubs my back gently and kisses my hair before I'm aware of my surroundings again.

"We could go to my room," he whispers shyly.

I lift my head to look at him, biting my lip and nodding my head in agreement to that idea.

He stands up off the couch with both his hands on my behind as my legs wrap around his waist. He walks us into his room and lays me down on his bed.

I'm still in a daze from my orgasm, so I just lie there and watch him as he starts unbuttoning his jeans. Part of me feels a little nervous seeing him undress with the knowledge of where we are now—despite what just happened. The apprehension increases when I see the tent-pole effect his dick is causing in his underwear.

"Sorry," he explains when he catches me staring. "You've just got me so damn hard."

My stomach flutters as he shoots me a little smile and comes to lay next to me on the bed, propping himself up on his side.

"Where were we?" he mumbles before leaning down to kiss me again.

His lips are gentle but insistent, reigniting the spark deep in my belly. My fingers curl into his wavy hair, and I sink into the feeling of being here with him like this. His hand moves from my hip to the button of my jeans, and he pulls back just enough to tug on my bottom lip softly with his teeth.

"Can we take these off?" he whispers against my mouth.

I nod my head eagerly because I want this, and I want him, and that overrides any nerves I might have in this moment.

He peels the jeans down my legs and returns right back to his original position. This time when he kisses me, he trails his hand teasingly across my lower belly, and I have to clench my legs together because my clit is throbbing with need.

His hand inches up my stomach until he is gently squeezing my breast over my bra. I moan in response and arch my back, never wanting him to stop.

"Fuck, Katniss," he pants, squeezing my other breast just as enthusiastically.

I move up on my elbows and start tugging on my shirt, showing him I want to take it off.

When it's finally removed, I barely have time to think before Peeta is pushing the underwire of my bra aside and gently kneading my bare breast. I cry out, and he dips his mouth to suck on my nipple.

"Oh, fuck!" I whine, holding my hand to his head.

He moves to give my other breast the same treatment, and I grasp at his back, trying to hold on. My hips undulate in response, desperately seeking out his touch. I'm so wet that it's starting to drip down my thighs. When he moves his lips up my chest and neck before kissing me again, I'm almost shaking with need.

"I've jerked off imagining this more than a few times since we met," he mumbles against my lips.

"Me too," I admit before I can think twice.

He groans and buries his head into the crook of my shoulder.

"Fuck, you have no idea how hot you are. I want you so much." He dips his hand down to my panties, lightly stroking my clit over the soft cotton material. "Can I make you come again?'

My mouth hangs open, already lost in a haze of lust and pleasure.

"Ye…yes," I manage to get out before he slips his fingers past my underwear and traces my folds.

I'm making an embarrassing amount of noise at this point, but I can't stop. He rubs my clit with his thumb—teasing circular motions that already have me ready for release.

"Holy shit, you are so damn wet."

I whimper as he pushes a single finger inside me.

"So fucking tight too."

His comment makes my heart jump a bit when I realize that we're going down a road that could lead somewhere I have no experience in. With his hand inside me and dazed by the pleasure he's making me feel, it's a little easier to just get it off my chest than I imagined it would be so I just go for it.

"Peeta...I ah...I'm a..."

He glances up at me, pausing a moment in confusion as he waits for me to continue.

"I um...I've never..." I look away, feeling the flush spread over my chest and face. "I'm a virgin," I admit, hating how the words make me feel so small. I've never regretted that I haven't slept with anyone, but it doesn't stop me from feeling oddly embarrassed to admit something like that to him.

"Katniss..." he says, forcing me to look back up at him.

When I do, I see the little smirk playing across his lips. He rubs my clit again and resumes the thrusting motion of his finger.

"If you think that matters to me at all..." he trails off, rubbing his thumb with more purpose against my clit, curling his finger so I cry out with pleasure.

I start grinding my hips against his hand, riding him as the pressure builds to a fever pitch inside me.

"Fuck, it just makes me want you more," he mumbles into my ear.

I'm keening now, clutching at his arm as I race towards my climax.

"To get to be the only one to be inside you...fuck, I'm going to come just thinking about it."

I explode, coming so hard my body flails with spasms that I can't control for what feels like forever. The waves of pleasure keep washing over me as he slows his movements but doesn't completely pull his hands away from me.

As the pleasure fades, suddenly I'm so exhausted that my eyes droop close almost immediately and I'm just barely hanging on to consciousness. I feel Peeta get up from the bed, but I'm so tired that my head just rolls to the side. When I feel him slide into bed beside me a little while later, he pulls the covers over our bodies and spoons me from behind.

I feel him press a kiss to my shoulder before sleep pulls me under.

* * *

The next morning it takes me a second to remember where I am.

When I do, I have to bite my lip to keep my stupid grin from splitting my face in half. Memories from last night—technically early this morning—make me blush and bury my head against the pillow. I'm practically giddy, and it's such a foreign feeling I try and soak it up for all it's worth.

Noise from outside the bedroom grabs my attention, and I realize that Peeta isn't still in bed with me. I get out of bed and grab a Panem Police Department t-shirt from the floor and throw it over my bra and panties. I make my way to the kitchen and find Peeta at the stove, a stack of French toast already cooked and ready to eat on the counter.

"Morning."

He turns and shoots me a smile, wiping his hands off on a dishtowel before crossing the kitchen and wrapping his arms around me. He kisses me with passion, his lips gentle but insistent. When he breaks away, he grins down at me with a sparkle in his eyes.

"Technically it's 2:30 in the afternoon," he laughs.

"Then why are you making breakfast?" I tease.

"Thought you might have an appetite after last night," he replies, raising his eyebrows with a teasing smirk.

I duck my head and feel the blush bloom across my cheeks. Out here in the light of day it's a little harder to keep eye contact with him when I remember the things we did last night, the way he touched me, the way I fell apart under his hands.

I move to one of the bar stools on the other side of the kitchen counter as Peeta brings out some plates and silverware. He tosses powdered sugar on the French toast, and I coat the slices of bread in syrup before digging in.

"Oh my god," I moan. "This is amazing."

He laughs and reaches down to squeeze my bare knee. Just the simple touch is enough to get me antsy, remembering the way he ran those hands all over my body last night.

"I know my way around the kitchen," he admits with a laugh.

When we finish breakfast, we work together to clean up and then he grabs my hands to pull me into his arms and I melt against him. He runs a hand over my hair and places a kiss to the top of my head.

"So I think maybe we should talk."

The words send a cold chill through me; dread swirls in my gut as I pull back to look up at him in concern.

"About what?" I croak out, already feeling slightly panicky.

He leans down to kiss me again, and the feel of his lips against mine settles my nerves somewhat. He grabs my hand and then leads me over to the couch in his living room. I pull my legs up and tuck them beneath me, and the oversized shirt of his that I'm wearing rides up my thighs a bit.

When I see his gaze fixed on the bare skin that's been revealed, I feel myself get warm all over. Suddenly the memory of making out on this couch last night, of dry humping him until I came, makes the ache between my legs grow.

He places his hand on my thigh and rubs it soothingly as he puts his other arm around my shoulder. He kisses my forehead, and I'm amazed at how good his touch feels, at how just his presence is enough to calm me.

"So...we should probably keep this a secret until your birthday next week," he begins.

I lean up to kiss him on the cheek. "Don't worry Peeta. I won't tell anyone."

"I know. I trust you," he says, running a hand over his face. "It's just...if the Chief found out about this it would not be good."

"So does that mean we have to keep our hands off each other during the night shift?" I question playfully, trailing my hands across his muscular chest.

He laughs and leans in to kiss me again. "Yes, unfortunately. I can't have you distracting me while I'm trying to do my job."

"So once this week is over and I turn eighteen..." I trail off, wanting him to fill in the blanks because I feel too much like a needy, desperate girl if I ask him the question of what this thing is between us after only one night together.

"After you turn eighteen and after your week of riding along with me is over, we can take it slow and see where we go from there. I don't think we need to go flaunting our relationship, but we should be okay by then."

I try not to grin like a maniac at him using the term 'relationship,' but it eases any small doubts I might have had about what this thing between us is. I know things have happened ridiculously fast between us, and I know that I might be getting ahead of myself, but the way I feel about him isn't fleeting, and it's not casual. The connection I feel to him emotionally is matched only by the passion that I feel being physical with him.

He kisses me again, but this time he traces the seam of my lips with his tongue, and I allow him entry to my mouth. He explores me thoroughly, licking and tasting and making me wet with every swipe of his tongue. When we finally break away, we're both breathing hard and he keeps his lips close to mine, mumbling against my mouth.

"Shit," he smirks. "I know I should have waited until this week was over or you turned eighteen, but I just couldn't help myself."

I laugh, an exuberant smile forming on my face. "Mmm...I'm glad that you're not as tough as you seem, Officer Mellark."

"Not when it comes to you," he says earnestly, trailing his knuckles down my cheek.

My heart feels like it squeezes to the point of pain in my chest.

Every moment I spend with him I feel myself falling a little deeper, and instead of being afraid, I just want to hold on tight, never letting go.

* * *

Peeta drops me off at home after our little make-out session on his couch so I can shower and change, and he can go to the gym before his shift starts later tonight.

Like I suspected, the fact I didn't come home in the morning after the ride along went completely unnoticed. My mother is locked away in her room as always, and my father is at work. I take a long hot shower and let the memories of being with Peeta consume me.

When I'm finally done, I feel relaxed and happy. I am towel-drying my hair when I check my phone and find a new message from Peeta.

**Peeta:** _Hey beautiful. Thanks for last night :)_

I grin, becoming increasingly aware that being with Peeta is making me smile like a maniac. I can't seem to find it within me to care though. It's so rare for me to feel this good and this happy that I just go with it. Part of me wonders if I'm soaking it all in now though because I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for something to rip this feeling away.

I push those thoughts aside and type out a response.

**Katniss:** _Hi :) Shouldn't I be thanking you? …for both times? lol_

I send it before I can think twice. I try and get dressed, combing my hair out, but I keep glancing over at my phone, waiting for his response. Finally the familiar sound alerts me to a message, and I practically jump across my bed to reach it.

**Peeta:** _You definitely don't have to thank me for that. I'm hard just thinking about how you looked when you came...both times ;) _

I groan and flop back on my bed, feeling the familiar ache between my legs growing in intensity. I'm wet just imagining him and the things we did. I don't know how I was even able to handle the real thing.

**Katniss:** _Good...I want to return the favor ;)_

The knowledge that I'm venturing into territory that is completely out of my comfort zone doesn't diminish the excitement I feel about getting to touch Peeta like that, to feel him in my hand and watch him get lost in pleasure.

**Peeta: **_Oh god...it's going to be a loooong night_

I laugh and get dressed, a stupid grin refusing to leave my face for the rest of the day. Luckily no one is around to notice it or ask me about it though, and for once I'm grateful.

* * *

That night our ride along together is noticeably different.

I do my best to behave and keep my hands to myself so as to not distract him while he's on duty, but it isn't easy.

"Can I just kiss you once to get it out of my system?" I tease him. "I'm going insane here not being able to touch you like I want."

"One kiss would really get it out of your system?" he questions skeptically with a smirk.

"No," I admit with a laugh.

"If we start something, I'm going to want to finish it," he explains, shooting me a look that sets my blood on fire.

I have to bite my lip and clench my thighs together to try and control myself.

"Well, maybe I'll start it for you..." I say, moving my hand between my legs.

He looks over at me, his eyes dark with lust, and the charge in the air between us is stifling. He licks his lips, but before he can say anything, his radio breaks the silence in the car and the heated moment between us.

He groans in protest when the dispatcher relays noise complaints coming from a house party across town.

"Buzzkill," I laugh as he inputs the address into his car's computer.

The neighborhood he drives to is in the middle-class part of town, homes that are usually one story with only a few bedrooms. When he pulls over to the side of the street, it becomes pretty apparent what house it is with the noise complaint. He parks about 20 yards away, and yet we can clearly hear the thumping music from the stereo system and the sound of conversation coming from so many people in the same space trying to talk over one another.

"Can I come in?" I ask. "I mean, I still have to be learning from the error of my criminal ways, right?"

He laughs and starts to get out of the car. "Yeah, that's true. Stay where I can see you though."

We start walking along the sidewalk towards the house, side by side.

I can't help myself. I reach out and take his hand, lacing my fingers through his and pulling him towards me as we come to a stop.

"I just...really need to do this," I say, rising up on my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his softly. We're hidden behind tall hedges that line the house with the noise complaint from its next-door neighbor, away from the noise and lights and commotion of the party.

He cups my face with one hand and presses the other to the small of my back. The kiss stays relatively tame, just our lips pressing against one another. Finally he breaks away with a pleased smirk.

"Hmm…you're trouble, have I told you that?"

I grin back at him, biting my lip and nodding my head. "You might have mentioned it before."

He shakes his head and pulls back, not releasing our joined hands until the last possible moment.

"I've got to get into serious cop mode so I can go yell at some teenagers," he says, trying to keep a straight face.

I laugh and motion ahead with my arm. "Well, don't let me stop you."

He walks towards the house, and I let him get a few steps ahead of me before I follow. Teenagers that are hanging around the front porch slowly start to become aware of his presence and go wide-eyed with fear. They toss their red plastic cups away and get the hell out of dodge without hesitation. It's almost comedic how the crowd of partygoers parts like the Red Sea when they notice him. Someone yells 'cops!' and people scramble to get out of the house as soon as possible.

"Do not get behind the wheel of a car if you've been drinking!" Peeta shouts over the noise of the people storming the front door.

I guess for a party like this he can't arrest 100 teenagers at once.

Seeing the kind of authority and power he has is really a bit of a turn-on. It hits me in this moment just how hot and strong and powerful he is. I bite my lip to keep the grin off my face when I think about the ridiculously sexy cop I got to spend the night with last night.

I follow Peeta through the crowd towards the back of the house. I'm sure he's looking for whoever's house this. The place has mostly cleared out by now, and because I wasn't very social in high school, I didn't recognize anyone leaving. I rarely went to parties in high school, and when I did it was only because Madge dragged me along.

There are long narrow hallways that lead from the dining room in the front of the house to the kitchen and a living room towards the back. As we approach the back room, I see the familiar faces seated around the coffee table, not bothering to take off like everyone else.

Marvel, Glimmer, and Clove look up as Peeta approaches them, mildly interested in the fact that there's a cop at their party now. I hang back a little, not really wanting them to notice me.

"Whose house is this? Are your parents home?" Peeta asks, his tone firm.

"This is my house. Parents are away. My older brother is in charge, but he's staying at his girlfriend's tonight," Glimmer speaks up, relating the details to Peeta so casually, like he's just another stoned teenager at her party.

I roll my eyes and step away, not wanting to hear her act like a dumb, rude idiot to Peeta and not wanting to hear him try and deal with her. I'm not even sure what he can do to her really other than issue a warning and maybe follow up with her parents.

I turn and head back down the hallway to find a bathroom. The one I use is in decent shape considering there was just a massive party here. I freshen up a bit, and when I step back out into the hallway, I nearly run right into someone.

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

Two pairs of hands reach out to steady me as I stumble backwards. When I look up and I see Cato's face looking down at me with a sly smile, I feel my stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Well, look who it is," he grins, leaning in so I can feel his warm breath that smells like beer. I try and step back, but there's nowhere to go in the narrow hallway.

"Damn Everdeen, you're looking better every time I see you. How come I never noticed you in high school?"

"I wasn't very social," I mumble, avoiding his eyes. Being this close to him makes my chest tighten with anxiety. I've heard the horror stories about Cato. He is the last person whose radar you want to be on. I don't know why he suddenly finds me so appealing.

"I bet I could bring out a different side to you," he laughs, raising one arm and leaning it against the wall behind me, so we're even closer than before. "I bet you'd be the kind of girl that can't get it enough. You'd probably be begging for my cock by the time I'm done with you."

I'm wincing and trying to turn away from him at this point. I gasp, startled and afraid, when a strong arm roughly pulls Cato away from me.

"Leave her alone," Peeta growls, looking like he could murder him at this point.

"Get your hands off me, pig," Cato shouts at him, yanking his arm from Peeta's strong grasp. "What's your fucking problem? You fucking her or something?"

It's only there for about half a second, but something in Peeta's face changes at his words, and Cato catches it. I see recognition dawning on his face as he looks between the pair of us quickly.

"So that's it then, you're tapping that ass and getting territorial about it?" Cato jeers, clearly finding this hilarious. "Well that's fucking rich. Aren't you supposed to be scaring her straight or some shit like that? But I guess I can't blame you," he adds, leaning in towards Peeta, who is breathing hard, his jaw clenched as he clearly tries not to lose it on Cato. "I wouldn't mind finding out what a small thing like her feels wrapped around my dick."

I decide before Cato even finishes his sentence to step in before Peeta ends up losing his cool and getting in trouble. I position myself between him and Cato and place a hand on his chest, trying to get him to look at me. I feel how tense he is, his entire body a solid wall of firm, hard muscle.

"Ignore him, he's not worth it," I remind him.

"Yeah pig, walk away," Cato taunts as I grab Peeta by the arm and pull him towards the front door, out of the house.

Peeta doesn't say anything as we get back into the car. He just grips the steering wheel tightly and looks straight ahead, his jaw still clenched and his whole body radiating tension.

I don't know what to say, and I don't know if I should even bother saying anything, so I stay quiet. Finally he releases a long breath and melts back against his seat a bit.

"I wanted to kill him," he says simply, and it doesn't help the knot in my stomach.

"He's an asshole. Forget him Don't worry about it."

He turns to me and the look in his eye is so intense that it almost takes my breath away. "He will never touch you. He will never hurt you. I promise you that, okay?"

The conviction behind his words and the anger I still feel coming off him in waves is a little scary, but all I can do is nod in reply. I believe him whole-heartedly. I know he would never let Cato do anything to me. I know that if I hadn't stepped in tonight, Peeta would have beaten the shit out of Cato without thinking twice.

My chest constricts uncomfortably when I realize that if Peeta had attacked Cato, he could have risked his job. And as much as it touches me that he would go to those lengths to protect me, that he cares about me that much, I know I'm not worth him losing his job over. I realize how much he's risking by being with me, and I know the right thing to do would be to walk away and end things between us before we go any further.

"I will never let anyone hurt you, Katniss," Peeta repeats.

He's so sincere that I know I can't. I can't walk away. I'm too selfish. I want him too much to turn back now. So instead of saying anything else, I just nod my head again.

"Okay," I tell him, reaching out to lace my hand through his. "Okay."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks as always for the amazing support for this story. Only 2 more chapters left after this one! I've also written a one-shot for Streetlightlove's S2SL charity so donate to that soon if you want to be able to read it! Thanks to the best beta/friend/source of support I could ask for - Court81981. Enjoy! I'm on tumblr ~ thegirlonpeetamellark :)**

When the night shift ends, Peeta asks me to come with him somewhere.

I agree without hesitation and we get into his own car and drive back up to the lookout point where he was busting high-school kids the other night. He takes me back to that secluded spot, away from anyone else with a clearer view of the city and the small lake below.

He grabs a blanket from his trunk and opens the sunroof in his car. We stand up through the opening so we can sit side by side on the roof, our feet dangling down into the car, the blanket wrapped tightly around us.

"You tired?" he asks, pressing a kiss to my temple, his arm wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me into his side.

"A little," I admit, laying my head against his chest, letting my eyes drift shut.

"You can't fall asleep on me yet," I hear him whisper against the top of my hair. "There's about to be a beautiful sunrise that I want you to see. It's the whole reason I brought you up here."

I laugh and slide my arm around his waist, trailing across his flat stomach.

"That's the only reason you brought me here?" I tease with a crook of my eyebrow.

He licks his lips and I feel a jolt go through me as I clench my thighs together.

"You make it really hard for me to be a gentlemen sometimes," he says, his eyes dark with lust.

"Maybe I don't want you to be one."

He groans and rests his forehead against mine. "I'm trying to be a good guy here, Katniss. I'm trying to let you set the pace and keep myself in check."

I bite my lip. The husky sound of his voice is enough to have me squirming, my panties growing wet with need for him.

"But fuck if I don't just want to get you naked and underneath me all the damn time. I want to make you come over and over. I want you to start crying out my name from the pleasure."

That does it. I move into his lap, straddling him. I take his face in my hands and kiss him deeply.

His hands go to my hips, and he pulls me more firmly against him. I can feel the thick, hard length of him through his jeans, rubbing up against the warmth between my legs. He licks his way into my mouth, devouring me. The wetness seeps out of me, and I start undulating my hips unconsciously, eager for some friction and his touch.

We break away, panting heavily as he starts trailing kisses against my throat.

"I want..." I gasp, rocking my hips into him, finding it difficult to express what I'm feeling.

"I know," he murmurs, his lips never leaving my skin.

I run my hands over his broad shoulders and down his strong arms. Sweet, hot warmth pulses through me, spreading out to every inch of my body. Being with him makes me burn hot with desire, but it also soothes and calms my soul. I don't feel alone or anxious or sad when I'm with him. I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.

"Hey, look," he says, his gaze going over my shoulder.

I twist in his arms to see the sun starting to emerge on the horizon. It fills the sky with a hundred different shades of orange and red and pink and I smile, thinking about Peeta's favorite color.

"It's beautiful," I breathe, feeling my chest tighten at how happy and grateful I am for this moment, to be here with him.

He trails the back of a couple of fingers down my cheek in a sweet gesture, getting me to turn my attention back to him.

"Gorgeous," he says, his eyes directed firmly on me.

My heart tightens, and suddenly I'm impatient. I need him. I need more than this. I need it now.

I crawl off his lap and sink down into the car, pulling his hand for him to join me. He closes the sunroof and then we climb into the backseat. I'm desperate suddenly to feel him, to show him how much I want him.

I grab at the button of his jeans and make quick work of pulling down his zipper. He lifts his hips to help me and as he kicks his pants off, I tug his boxers down and he springs free. I bite my lip at the sight of him. He's hard and thick and leaking from the tip. I don't have any experience with this, but the sight of him ignites something inside me. I squirm anxiously, the heat between my legs throbbing at the thought of him inside me, and my hands itch to reach out and feel him.

I finally drag my eyes up to his face, and he's studying me intensely. Hesitantly I reach out and take him in my hand. He sucks in a harsh breath between his teeth.

"Show me," I implore quietly.

He reaches down and puts his hand on top of mine. He shows me how hard to grip him and how to move my hand over his tip, gathering his cum and spreading it down the length of him to ease my movements. When I get the hang of how he likes it, his hand falls away and I start to feel more confident.

"Come here," he says roughly, wrapping a hand around my neck and pulling me towards him.

We kiss, and my movements start alternating between slow and steady, to fast and frenzied as his lips and tongue distract me. Our kisses are erotic and steamy as I hold his hardness between us.

"Fuck, don't stop," he gasps, pulling away from our kiss and pushing his hips into my hand.

Finally, he reaches down and covers his tip with his palm as he comes, the white sticky substance spreading over both our hands.

He sinks back against the seat and sighs, pulling me against him after we wipe our hands off on his discarded boxers.

He starts kissing along my neck, and when his hand dips between my legs and slips under my skirt to rub me firmly over my underwear, I gasp and push into him. My nails dig into his bicep as I gyrate my hips frantically, needing him to rub my clit harder.

He bites down on my ear lobe as he slips two fingers past my panties and runs along my folds, gathering the moisture there.

"So wet for me."

I moan and cry out as he pushes two fingers inside me, curling them just right.

"Fuck my fingers," he murmurs into my ear.

My eyes nearly roll to the back of my head, and my lower belly clenches in anticipation at his words. This hold—this power—he has over me is all consuming and unlike anything I've ever felt.

I start rocking my hips as he keeps his hand steady. I pull back so just the tips of his fingers are inside me and then push down until he is knuckle-deep. It's such a primal, raw feeling to use him for my pleasure, to feel him penetrating me like I have never been before. When he adds his thumb to the mix and circles my clit with firm, teasing circles, I nearly double over from the pleasure.

"Peeta!" I cry, clinging to his shoulders as everything tightens inside me, the ecstasy coursing through my veins.

"Come for me," he commands, pressing down directly on my clit, mercilessly giving me the release I so crave.

And then I am nothing more than pure sensation, physical pleasure so intense my body doesn't feel like my own anymore. My orgasm hits me so hard that bursts of color explode behind my eyes as I fall against him and try to calm my racing heart.

Vaguely I'm aware of him rubbing my back soothingly and pressing kisses to my sweat dampened face, pushing my hair away.

It feels like a long time later before either one of us says anything else. We're curled up together, the blanket from earlier thrown across our laps, my head resting on his chest and his arm around my shoulders.

"You're amazing, you know that?"

I scoff and draw patterns on his chest. "I'm not amazing."

"You have no idea..." he says, almost reverently.

"I'm a juvenile delinquent that isn't going to college," I say sardonically.

He pulls away and looks down at me, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Why aren't you going to college?"

I shrug and look away. "I don't think I'm really the college type."

"Katniss," he says seriously, "I've seen your transcript. You have good enough grades to get into any college. Why aren't you going?"

I bite my lip and feel the words coming up before I can stop them. There's something about him, something that makes me want to share with him and trust him with things I have kept hidden and buried for so long.

"I don't deserve a fresh start," I whisper, my eyes shining with tears. "I don't want to go start this great new life when my sister never got to live past thirteen. It's not fair."

A few tears slip down my cheeks, and he wipes them away with his thumb.

"Besides..." I shrug, "my parents haven't really mentioned it so obviously they don't care whether I go or not."

He uses his fingers to tilt my chin up so I'm forced to look at him.

He looks so sad that I instantly feel even worse.

"And it's not like I'm even good at anything," I hear myself start to ramble. "I don't know what I want to do with my life. Prim was the one who had everything figured out, who was smart and kind and would have thrived in college."

I take a deep, gasping breath of air.

"She knew what she wanted in life, a life she doesn't get to live anymore. She was the good one, not me—"

He cuts me off with a sweet, firm kiss. When he pulls back, his eyes are burning a hole in me, gazing into my soul. "You are good. And you deserve so much more than you give yourself credit for. You deserve everything. You can't punish yourself because of what happened in the past. Your sister would want you to keep living, to have the life she never could."

I bury my head into his shoulder and start to cry, great heaving sobs that rack my whole body. He just holds me and lets me get it all out. He rubs my back and kisses me gently and whispers words of comfort.

"I'm sorry," I start to apologize when I can finally control myself, "I don't mean to put this all on you."

"Hey," he says firmly, making sure I look him in the eyes. "Don't do that. I want this. I want you. All of you. I'm not just here for the good stuff. I want to be by your side for the bad stuff too."

Another deep breath and I can feel some of the tension and anxiety this whole topic brought out in me slowly start to melt away. I look into those deep blue eyes of his and relax. I smile because somehow, despite how much I've fucked up, how fucked up my life has been up to this point, I've managed to find him.

I kiss him softly and rest my head back against his chest.

"I want you too," I whisper.

And for a long time after that, nothing else needs to be said.

* * *

The next night on duty is our second to last together, and there's something almost bittersweet about it.

Even though we can't really do anything when he's working and as long as I'm on his watch we'll always have that hanging between us, I'm going to miss riding around with him when this week is over.

I love watching him work. I love the intense look on his face when something needs to get done. I love that tone of authority he uses when dealing with people.

I'd be lying if I said the thought of him bossing me around, telling me what to do and maybe even using those handcuffs on me hasn't made it into my naughtier fantasies.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?"

"You just like how short this skirt is," I tease him.

"That might have something to do with it," he laughs, reaching over and placing a warm hand on my thigh.

I put my hand over his and pull it a little higher, closer to where I want him most.

"Don't tempt me," he says in that strict tone of voice I love, his eyes glued to the road.

His radio interrupts us with a disturbance call at the local dive bar, and I reluctantly let go of his hand. He pulls up to the same bar where he responded to a call a couple of nights ago, the same bar where he disappeared inside for a while and came out to find me sitting on the hood of his car. When he pinned me down and told me he wanted me.

I flush at the memory and bite my lip to keep the stupid grin off my face.

When he puts the car in park, I go to take off my seat belt, and he shoots me a curious look.

"I got to pee," I explain.

He sighs, and I can see it in his eyes that he is more than a little wary about letting me come in. This is probably the seediest place in town in terms of the type of patrons that frequent it.

"I'll be quick," I assure him, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

I get out of the car before he can stop me.

"Let me go first," he says as we reach the front door. The music is blaring and people are crowded in to the tight confines. It's a Friday night, so naturally they're a lot busier than they were earlier in the week.

When I follow him inside, no one even glances his way. People are laughing and practically screaming to be heard over one another. Everyone is crowded around the bar trying to order a drink.

Peeta turns back to me, a grim look on his face. My stomach twists with worry over seeing him so anxious.

"The bathrooms are in the back. There might be a line."

"Okay, I'll meet you back at the car," I say with a smile, grabbing his arm and giving it a quick squeeze to try and reassure him.

I meander through the crowd and make my way towards the back of the bar. I try and keep my head down and not attract too much attention. Suddenly, I really regret wearing this skirt tonight. Especially when some guys start to call out and make suggestive comments as I pass.

I ignore them and luckily when I get to the back hallway there is only one other girl in line for the bathroom. She looks me up and down critically and then turns away, blowing a bright pink bubble with her gum before it pops loudly and she resumes chewing.

When it's finally my turn, I try and go as quickly as I can despite the tight space and overall gross condition of the restroom. There's this tight knot of anxiety in my chest that I can't seem to shake. Maybe I should have just held it. I would have probably just been better off waiting in the car for Peeta instead of having to deal with a loud, crowded bar of drunks where calls to the police are made multiple times a week.

When I step back into the hallway, I see four very annoyed and pissed off girls waiting in line to use the restroom. The thought of pushing past them and making my way through that bar again is daunting and makes my stomach hurt. So instead I move towards the opposite direction of the hallway and see that the back door is being propped open with a brick.

I slip out into the warm night air and take a deep breath, relieved to finally be free of that place. The music and the chatter of the bar fades away as I turn the corner to make my way back to the front parking lot where Peeta's cop car is parked.

Instantly I freeze when I see a beat up pick-up truck parked alongside the bar—a loud, older drunk guy talking on his cell phone. He sees me and in spite of the way he's yelling into the phone and the anger radiating off of him, his lips twist in a crooked grin.

I take a deep breath and keep my head down, hoping to just walk by him quickly.

"I don't even know if the baby is mine!" he screams. "You no good, stupid bitch. I bet you fucked him."

My heart starts pounding against my chest, my stomach twisting with nerves.

"I don't have time for your shit. I'm fucking done with you."

_Please leave me alone. Please leave me alone. Please. Please. Please._

"Well hold on there, missy!" I hear him call when I'm no more than a few steps by him. He snaps his phone shut and takes two long strides to catch up with me.

He reaches out to grab my arm, and I try to shake him off but his grip only tightens.

"I have to go," I mumble, not looking at him, not thinking about anything except that I have to get away from him. Everything inside me is screaming to run…to yell…to do anything it takes not to be stuck alone with this guy right now.

"You don't wear a skirt like that and a top showing off those tits if you aren't looking for a little fun," he laughs, leaning in towards me so I can smell his rank, stale breath coming off him in hot waves.

I feel sick. I try and pull my arm out of his grip again but it's useless.

"Please leave me alone," I whimper, the reality of this situation setting in on me. Everything comes crashing down on me as I realize that this is what Peeta was afraid of when I would sneak into the abandoned projects alone, that someday I would find myself alone and vulnerable.

He grabs my other arm and pushes me up against the side of the bar.

"Don't be such a goddamn tease," he growls, angry enough now that his grip is actually hurting me.

"Come on, baby. I'm ready to go," he laughs, leaning in to kiss me, pressing up against me so I can feel him through his jeans.

I turn my head away and start to scream for help.

He shakes me hard, violently. "Shut the fuck up!" he spits.

"Help!" I cry, trying to push away the panic and fear, trying to keep fighting for as long as I can.

"You fucking want it," he insists, moving a hand to cover my mouth and using the other to grab at my breasts roughly. He squeezes so hard it hurts, but with his hands occupied I can push him away from my body enough to give me a second to work with.

With that split second and that space to free my legs, I bring my knee up and hit him in the crotch. It's not a direct hit, but it does enough to get him to back away for a moment, holding himself and cursing in pain.

"Fucking bitch!" he swears, moving towards me again, but by that time I'm already moving towards the front of the bar, stumbling along as I try and make my legs work. I hear him following me, and just as I'm rounding the corner I see Peeta step outside the front door.

He hears me coming, and his eyes go wide with fear when he sees the drunk guy chasing after me.

"Peeta!" I reach him, but he looks right past me, his eyes zeroing in on my attacker. He pushes past me and grabs the guy just as he approaches.

The force and quickness with which he grabs the asshole by his shirt and slams him against the side of the building is astounding.

"Did he hurt you?" he screams, not even looking at me.

"He...he tried to..." I can barely get out the words through my tears, and a great heaving sob escapes me, effectively cutting off anything else I was going to say.

"Bitch wanted it," the drunk guy slurs.

I jump back, startled when Peeta slams the guy to the ground and kicks him in the stomach twice, hard and fast. The guy groans, and Peeta puts one knee into his back as he cuffs him and reads him his rights.

The guy lays on the ground, face down, moaning in pain, and motionless.

Finally, Peeta looks up at me, the fear and concern and pain written all over his face.

"Are you okay?" he asks, and I wipe the tears from my eyes when I hear how upset he sounds.

I nod shakily.

He cups my face and presses a kiss to my forehead.

"Will you be okay to go wait for me in the car? I'm going to call this in so someone else can take him into the station and book him. I don't want him near you."

I nod again and go to turn away when he grabs my hand to stop me. I look back at him curiously.

"Katniss...it's okay," he says seriously, holding my gaze.

My lower lip trembles as I try and keep it together. I nod again, and he lets me go so I can make my way across the parking lot.

When I'm finally in the safety of his car, it becomes hard to breathe. I try and fight it off, but before I know it I'm completely losing it, breaking down and sobbing into my hands at what almost just happened...what could have happened.

I think about how stupid I've been all this time going to these seedy places alone, so careless and reckless with my safety and my life. At least here it was somewhere public where luckily Peeta was able to help me. I can't even imagine how awful things could have been if I'd run into a guy like Cato or a guy like the one from tonight somewhere alone with no one to save me.

I've been so thoughtless and ungrateful that I'm still alive and here, despite how bleak things have seemed, when my little sister isn't even around anymore. I hate myself for not honoring her memory better, for not appreciating more what was taken from her and living a life worthy of the one she lost.

I cry loud and long into the silence of the car before I finally start to calm down. I'm grateful that Peeta had to stay and take care of it so I could have some time to process everything alone.

Strangely, I feel a little better once my crying fit is over. My face is puffy and my eyes are red, but I don't feel as upset anymore. I tell myself over and over again that nothing happened. He didn't hurt me. I'm okay. I'm safe.

I repeat it like a mantra in my head until my tears dry and my headache from all the crying goes away.

That's when I see Peeta walking across the parking lot towards the car.

I wipe my eyes and try not to seem like I've just been crying my eyes out. I don't want him to know how upset I was…or am. I don't want him any more upset than how he looked when he asked me if I was okay. Just thinking about the hurt and pain in his eyes makes my heart hurt.

When he gets in the car, he doesn't say anything; he just reaches over and pulls me into his arms.

"I...I'm okay," I try and assure him but my voice starts to crack.

"It's okay if you're not," he tells me, holding me tighter.

I feel the tears come on again, but they're silent and not as overwhelming as earlier. A few slip down my face as he pulls back and wipes them away with his thumb.

"I'm sorry," we say at the same time and then look at each other with a mix of confusion and gentle reproach.

"I should have been there. I should have been watching out for you," he explains.

I shake my head. "Not your fault," I insist. "And you were there. You saved me."

"You don't have anything to be sorry about," he declares vehemently. "That asshole already has two prior assault charges on his record. He blew a .18 on the breathalyzer and he had an unlicensed gun on him."

I take a deep shuddering breath and burrow deeper into his arms. He is so warm and strong and calming. With his arms around me I can almost pretend like nothing happened tonight. When I look into his eyes I feel safe; I know he cares about me and I know he would do anything to protect me.

"Can we go back to your place?" I ask. "I want to be with you tonight."

I see him swallow thickly as he looks into my eyes and sees the meaning behind my words.

He nods and starts the car. I reach over and grab his hand as we drive away.


End file.
